


A Crack in Our Castle of Glass

by Icicle



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Anal Sex, Angst, Cheating, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Injury Recovery, Katsuki Yuuri-centric, Long-Haired Yuri Plisetsky, M/M, Major Character Injury, Non-Chronological, Pining, Post-Canon, Rimming, Sad Katsuki Yuuri, Smut, Spanking, Unhealthy Relationships, Viktuuri infidelity, Yuri Plisetsky is a Brat, yu2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-04 01:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11544615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icicle/pseuds/Icicle
Summary: At the age of twelve, Yuuri fell in love with Viktor. He thought their love would last forever, but at twenty-eight and facing a career ending injury, Yuuri finds comfort in all the wrong places.Yu2. Viktuuri Infidelity.





	1. Falling- (Past)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ashii Black (ashiiblack)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashiiblack/gifts).



> For **Ashiiblack** , who asked for angst, Yu2, pining, infidelity, and passionate smut. You’re such an amazing writer that I was thrilled to write for you. I hope you enjoy this. 
> 
> **This fic features Viktuuri infidelity, meaning married Yuuri will cheat on Viktor with Yurio. If that’s something that bothers you, then by all means hit the back button. From this point on, it’s all sin. You’ve been warned.**

The first time Yuuri sees Viktor he’s twelve years old.

He’s not quite as obsessed with figure skating as he will be in the future. He still sees skating as more of a hobby than his reason for breathing, preferring to spend longer hours in the quiet solace of the dance studio with Minako, perfecting his turn out and pirouettes rather than falling in front of crowds at Ice Castle.

Recently, he’s been spending more time with Yuuko. According to Takeshi, Yuuri follows her everywhere like a lovesick puppy. Even Mari seems to join in on the teasing, asking him how his new girlfriend is, mocking Yuuri’s crush on her.

Yuuri’s never had a crush before. He doesn’t know exactly what that means, but he does find Yuuko pretty. He likes it when she wears her long hair in braids, loves to watch her glide effortlessly across the ice. Yuuko is the best jumper he knows and Yuuri hopes that he’ll be able to land jumps like her one day. Watching her skate causes a warm, tingly feeling in his belly. If that’s a crush, then Yuuri supposes Takeshi and Mari are right.

That is…until Viktor.

_Russia’s Viktor Nikiforov….he’s amazing! He just won Junior Worlds with the highest score ever!_

Yuuko’s words flood his mind.

_Viktor._

Yuuri’s never seen anyone as beautiful as Viktor Nikiforov. Boy or Girl. Viktor with his silvery long hair and striking blue eyes, his perfect bone structure. Yuuri has always preferred ballet to figure skating. He finds storytelling and beauty in ballet superior, but Viktor’s beauty both physical and on the ice is breathtaking. He’s an artist—a modern day Da Vinci, using his skates as a paint brush and the ice as his canvas. Every move is deliberate—a perfect line conducting his latest masterpiece and Yuuri can barely breathe.

By the time Viktor finishes his performance, tears flow down Yuuri’s face. He’s so overwhelmed with emotion, dazed by Viktor’s raw talent and beauty. If watching Yuuko skate ignited a warm, tingly feeling in his gut, then watching Viktor makes Yuuri’s entire body burn as if it were on fire, as if all his breath has been taken away. Maybe he has a small crush on Yuuko, but there’s only one word for the emotion Yuuri feels toward Viktor.

_Love._

The first time Yuuri watches Viktor skate, he falls in love. He knows he’ll never be the same. Viktor’s ruined him for life.

How could he ever love anyone else?

**~*~**

 

The first time Yuuri tries to meet Viktor he’s fourteen.

Two years have passed since he first watched Viktor skate. Things could not be more different. At twelve years old, Yuuri used to schedule his skating practices around school and ballet classes. Now, Yuuri spends as much time on the ice as possible. He goes to Ice Castle before and after school, staying there until he’s forced to go home. He skates until his feet ache, raw and bloody, until his sister comes by insisting Yuuri come home and help with the onsen. Or at the very least come home for dinner.

Skating has become Yuuri’s entire life. He has years to make up for and plans to do it wholeheartedly. When he first lands a triple axel, a jump Yuuri has been working on for an entire year, he turns to Yuuko. She jumps and cheers him on.

“I’m going to skate on the same ice as Viktor one day!”

Yuuri’s qualified for the Junior Grand Prix series and will put on a performance that makes Viktor take notice, even if he’s now competing in the Senior Men’s Division.

While Yuuri catches his breath, Yuuko gives him a warm smile. “I know you will, Yuuri.” She bends over and plants a kiss on his cheek, leaning in for a hug. “And I’ll be there to cheer you on in the front row.”

Yuuri returns her embrace and closes his eyes, savoring the kiss and wondering what it would be like to have Viktor’s lips on his cheek instead.

At fourteen Yuuri’s massive crush on Viktor has turned into something resembling love or perhaps even obsession, but Yuuri is too young to know the difference.


	2. Breaking-(Present)

At twenty-eight, Yuuri has spent more than half his life on the ice. He can’t believe how his life has changed. He _actually_ married his idol. Yuuri and Viktor have been married for three years. Their whirlwind romance led them to the altar not too long after Yuuri’s world recording breaking performance at the Grand Prix Final. Viktor couldn’t wait to marry him, even if it meant retracting his promise of only marrying after Yuuri won gold.

Most mornings, Yuuri still can’t believe how lucky he is. His life feels like a dream, waking up next to his former childhood idol. Yuuri always thought Viktor Nikiforov was perfect. First, he was the perfect skater with his perfect technique, artistry, and masterful command of the ice and the crowd. Then, he was the perfect boyfriend and husband, doting on Yuuri, trying to grant his every wish, spoiling him with grand romantic gestures. At first, Yuuri thought he was living in a fairytale. But three short years later, the novelty has worn off.

Yuuri still loves his husband, but he doesn’t like to be treated as if he’s made of glass. Especially now.

At twenty-eight, Yuuri is no longer afraid of the ice or even the crowds. Part of him, even craves it. Since Viktor stepped in as his coach, Yuuri’s achieved a lot, and he owes most of his success to Viktor. As a child, and even during the early part of his career, Yuuri used to skate _for_ Viktor. He wanted to skate _like_ Viktor, to appear effortless on the ice, to command the audience’s respect and attention. Hell, he wanted to _be_ fucking Viktor Nikiforov. Even copying him was good enough.

Or at least he did.

Now, he’s pretty happy being Katsuki Yuuri: Japan's Ace, winner of two consecutive Grand Prix Finals, 2x Silver World Medalist, and Olympic Silver Medalist. Or at least he was until his injury.

He’s not getting any younger. Yuuri knows this, but he believed his best was still ahead. At the advanced age of thirty-one, Viktor won a gold medal at the Olympics. He was also able to tack on two more World Champion titles before his retirement. Why couldn't Yuuri do the same?

Yuuri _loves_ his husband. Really, he does. Yet, he can’t shake the jealousy that Viktor was able to finish out his career, a legendary career, on his own terms.

Foolishly, Yuuri thought he would be granted the same luxury. Due to his extensive ballet and yoga training, Yuuri is extremely flexible. He hardly ever gets injured. His stamina is legendary around the tour. He never faced a major setback in his career, at least injury wise. Until he did. A ruptured Achilles tendon. Isn’t that the stuff of Greek mythology? It isn’t supposed to be a real injury, and it definitely isn’t supposed to keep Yuuri off the ice.

Closing his eyes, Yuuri glides across the ice, picking up as much speed as possible, digging his blades into the ice. He _can_ still do this. He isn’t _too_ old, _too_ injured. He forces his body into the correct take off for a triple axel, facing forward. It’s always been his most consistent jump. He lands it. _Barely._

A shitty triple axel. Yuuri laughs darkly. That’s all he’s capable of anymore. How pathetic. Good thing Ice Castle is empty if not he’d be even more embarrassed.

Viktor’s words haunt him. _Yuuri, you know what the doctors said. You have to stay off the ice. No jumps. Not if you’ll ever have hope of recovering and competing professionally again._

Yuuri _loves_ his husband—his former coach, his idol, his mentor. These words have become his mantra of late, with the amount of time he repeats them. Even so, he resents and hates Viktor just the _tiniest_ bit. Viktor, who at thirty-two can still land a quad flip on a good day as if it’s nothing, as if he were born on the ice. _Effortless grace paired with good genes_ , Viktor tells him when Yuuri questions his longevity. _Fuck him._

Yuuri takes a deep breath. He knows it’s wrong; he’s a jerk and pathetic for resenting his husband for something that isn’t in his control. It isn’t Viktor’s fault that Yuuri got injured, that Viktor possesses more talent in his pinky finger than Yuuri does in his entire, injured body. All the same, Yuuri is bitter.

Things weren’t supposed to end like this. He thought he had all the time in the world. Five consecutive World Championships. That had been the deal. And Yuuri agreed; he actually believed it. He hadn’t planned on going back on his deal. Or ever destroying his marriage vows.

Then again, Yuuri hadn’t planned on a lot of things.

At twenty-eight, Yuuri has learned one thing. Plans are bullshit.

After trying another pathetic triple axel, Yuuri decides to call it quits. He needs to get home before Viktor comes looking for him.

 

**~*~**

 

When Yuuri arrives home, all the lights are off and Yuuri feels the knot in his stomach unfold. Since their marriage, Viktor and him have moved out of his parents’ onsen and into their own place. Tonight, Yuuri is beyond grateful.

As he unlocks the door, he thanks the gods that it looks like Viktor is asleep. He remembers a time when he’d come home after a long day, desperate to be near his husband. Deep down, he knows that Viktor cares. He _wants_ to help, but the last thing Yuuri needs is Viktor’s pitying stare when he sees the miserable shape he's in, how he yearns to be back on the ice, how empty he is without it, how only being Viktor's husband isn’t enough.

Yuuri has always believed he can’t live without Viktor. Perhaps it still holds true. But Yuuri was wrong about one major thing. At twelve years old, he fell in love with Viktor Nikiforov, but he also fell in love with the ice. He'll never be willing to give those two things up. They go together and if Yuuri never steps on the ice again, never feels the joy of landing a perfect quad Salchow, of thrilling the audience, then Yuuri realizes he might as well be dead.

Why is he like this? It _can’t_ be normal.

As he stumbles into their bedroom, he hopes to avoid waking Viktor. No such luck.

“Yuuri…is that you?”

He cringes as he hears Viktor’s voice. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

Viktor is lounging on an arm chair, engrossed on his iPad. “I was waiting for you.”

Viktor stands from his chair and places a tentative kiss on the side of Yuuri’s face. He hugs him tightly. Yuuri returns his husband’s embrace, wishing it didn’t feel so awkward, so forced. He remembers when Viktor used to be like his own personal octopus, always attached to his side. Yuuri used to find it incredibly embarrassing. Now, he’d give anything to have Viktor be that affectionate again, to feel _that_ wanted.

“I missed you.” Viktor offers a small smile.

“I did too.” Yuuri's response is automatic. Oh, how he wishes he actually meant it. When had things become so hard?

“What are you up to?”

“Just reading.”

Yuuri laughs. He knows Viktor’s version of reading involves fooling around on social media. Even if Viktor is now in his thirties, he hasn’t grown up at all since Yuuri met him in Hasetsu. He may no longer melt hearts on the ice, but Viktor still enjoys working his fans into a frenzy on Instagram and Twitter.

“Anything interesting?” Yuuri tries to keep his voice nonchalant, to distract Viktor. He doesn't want Viktor to notice that he’s sweaty--that he spent the last few hours on the ice against both his doctors’ and husband’s wishes.

“Not really.” All of a sudden, Viktor frowns, furrowing the faint lines between his eyebrows. “You’re sweaty.”

“I _am_.” He doesn’t miss the accusation in Viktor’s voice. He tries not to panic. It’s been awhile since he’s had a panic attack. Through a lot of hard work he’s managed to control his emotions. But lying has never been his strong suit, even if being a liar is the only thing he’s capable of lately.

“You went skating.” It’s not a question and Viktor’s scowl deepens. He drops his iPad and glares, stirring a deep, sinking tightness in Yuuri's stomach.

“No jumps,” Yuuri lies. “Just some figure eights. I’m not an invalid, you know.”

Viktor sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re not.” He bites his lip. “But you know what the doctors said. If you want to keep your chances of making a full comeback then—”

“Don’t you get it yet?” Yuuri snaps. “What comeback? It’s _not_ going to happen!” He turns away from Viktor, no longer being able to meet his husband’s pained eyes. Yuuri has never wanted anyone’s pity, especially not Viktor’s. “I can’t even land a shitty triple axel. There is no comeback.” His voice is small, smaller than he’s heard it in years. “The comeback is _dead_.”

“ _Yu-uri_ —” Viktor drawls out his name in that familiar way that used to make his heart flutter. Now, it only causes him pain, reminding him of what _they_ used to have, of what Yuuri used to be, how he used to be at least somewhat good enough for Viktor Nikiforov. Now, he’s just broken.

“Just drop it, Viktor.” 

“Alright.” Viktor moves closer, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's waist, pulling him closer to his chest. He’s still ridiculously strong, even after being retired for more than a year. Yuuri tries not to let it choke him up.

It isn’t fair. He shouldn’t feel _this_ way, like a stranger limp in the arms of his own husband, a husband he spent his entire childhood fantasizing about.

“I thought you were going out with the boys tonight?” Yuuri asks, desperate to change the subject.

Ever since Viktor and Yuuri have been married, Viktor has been going on what he dubs a “Boys Night”—a night with Chris and Georgi where they go out and do god knows what. Apparently, even though Yuuri, Chris, and Georgi are _also_ friends, Viktor and Yuuri are much _too gross_ when together. They don’t pay attention to anyone else, stuck in their own little bubble, which is why Chris and a reluctant Georgi, demanded that they have “Boys Night” _alone_ with Viktor every few months. They want Viktor's complete attention.

Yuuri sighs. If only that were true. Perhaps things _used_ to be like that, but Yuuri can’t remember the last time his husband stared at him with wide eyed adoration. He's certain that Chris and Georgi would no longer protest to his presence in their group. But he doesn’t push the issue. It’s important that him and Viktor have their own lives outside of each other, including their own friends. For so long, they’ve been far too co-dependent. 

Viktor hums, pulling Yuuri out of his thoughts. “Georgi was unable to come. Apparently, he had some hot date.” Viktor smirks. “Can you imagine standing me up for a date? I think I’m losing my touch. At least it isn't Anya.”

“And Christophe?” Yuuri asks, thankful that his changing the subject worked.

Viktor laughs, a deep, throaty chuckle that Yuuri has always loved. “Christophe is on some type of ‘deep cleanse’ where alcohol is forbidden. Can you believe that?”

Viktor smiles again, his laugh lines prominent, and Yuuri thinks even at thirty-two and with all their issues, Viktor is the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

“I see.” Yuuri tries to stifle his own laugh. His limbs finally feel more relaxed, but then just as quickly, Viktor catches his lips in a kiss. Yuuri tries not to go rigid with his husband pressed against him.

“I missed you, _Yuuri_.” Viktor’s breath is hot against his lips. “I was bored all day without you.”

“Didn’t you have your students to entertain you?” Yuuri asks, once the breath returns to his lungs.

“I did.” Viktor licks his lips. “But it’s _not_ the same. Not like you. Maybe I can—”

“ _Yes_?”

Yuuri holds his breath, desperately trying not to get his hopes up. They haven’t had sex since the accident, since Yuuri became an invalid. Okay, maybe he’s _not_ an invalid, but he sure feels like one. Viktor is no help at all. He treats him as if he’s made of glass. They haven’t made love, not real love, for more than six months. Viktor is always far too careful, afraid to hurt Yuuri and undo his progress.

“I can give you a nice massage.” When Viktor flashes him a seductive smile, he tries not to pout. He’s still the same Yuuri. Why can’t Viktor see that?

He leans in and kisses Viktor soundly. “Not what I had in mind, love.” 

For a moment, Viktor kisses him back, really kisses him, and Yuuri feels his knees buckle. “ _Yuuri_ —” Viktor’s voice is strained, cautious, and Yuuri tries to ignore how his heart twists as if it’s crumbling inside his chest. “You _know_ what the doctor said. No strenuous activity. Not until—”

“My rehab’s done. I got it.” Yuuri's voice is far too cold.

Viktor takes a step back, clearly hurt. “I’m—”

“Just don’t.” He sighs, avoiding Viktor’s gaze. He _can’t_ do this anymore. It’s too much. “I can’t argue with you tonight. Just…”

“Yu-uri—” Viktor sounds a bit desperate. “You know…I—”

“Me too,” Yuuri cuts him off, not wanting to hear his husband’s rehearsed words. “I’m fine, Viktor.” He forces a smile, hoping Viktor won’t notice that it’s as fake as the ones Viktor uses for the cameras.

“Lyubov moya—”

“I’m going to head to Minako’s studio.” He gulps, ignoring the lump forming in his throat. How has his marriage come to this? A desperate web of lies that swallows him up every day a bit further.

“Lyubov moya,” Viktor repeats, his voice hitching. “You know you’re not supposed to—”

“I’m going to stretch. That’s not against the rules.” He raises an eyebrow. “You want me to follow the doctor’s orders, right? He banned me from the rink not the ballet studio. Ballet is good for me, remember?”

Viktor tugs his hair behind his ears. It’s longer now, almost to his shoulder blades. Yuuri resists the urge to reach out and grab it. He’s always been a sucker for Viktor’s hair. At least some things haven't changed.

“I know…I thought we could spend the night together,” Viktor says, pain obvious in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this alone. I know I’m not always easy, but Yuuri—”

Yuuri can’t listen to another word without his heart breaking, without feeling like the worst person in the world. He silences Viktor with another kiss. “You’re fine, Vitya.” A sad smile stretches his lips. “ _We’re_ fine. I just need some time alone. Is that too much to ask?”

“Of course not.” Viktor kisses him on the nose and he has to close his eyes in order not to cry. "Just hurry back to me."

Reluctantly, he pulls away. He needs to detangle himself from Viktor’s suffocating limbs before he realizes something’s wrong. Yuuri isn't fine at all.

“I’ll be home soon,” Yuuri says as he walks toward the door. The guilt building in his stomach is almost dizzying. It’s not enough to make him turn around and stay.

He doesn’t wait to hear Viktor’s response. He already knows that he’s the worst husband in the world.


	3. Doubting-(Past)

Yuuri fiddles with his white bow tie. His clumsy fingers can’t seem to tie it properly.  
  
At twenty-five, Yuuri can’t believe he’s marrying his idol. Part of him, still believes he’s dreaming—that at any moment he’ll wake up in his childhood bed, surrounded by his collection of Viktor posters, realizing that this whole thing was a dream. A god like Viktor Nikiforov would never give Yuuri the time of day. He’d never marry someone as plain and boring as Yuuri.  
  
Yet, it’s real.  
  
Against all odds, Viktor loves him. He wants to spend the rest of his life with Yuuri, and somehow, the Katsuki-Nikiforov wedding has become the highest profile social event of the season.  
  
Yuuri still doesn’t understand how it happened, but he knows it’s Viktor’s fault and partly responsible for the growing panic simmering in his stomach. Doesn’t Viktor know he hates to make a spectacle of himself? Throughout their engagement, Viktor and him discussed a small wedding--friends and family only. He’d vetoed Viktor’s original plan to make the dance floor out of ice, for both of them to show up on skates and perform a rendition of their Stammi Vicino routine, to live stream the entire event for all their fans.  
  
Yuuri adores Viktor. Really, he does, but Viktor is a bit over the top. About everything. Yuuri wants a simple wedding, a tasteful declaration of their love, not some extra af theatrical performance that rivals Yurio’s "Yuri on Darkness" ice show from last year. The fear of making a fool of himself along with the very real possibility of his humiliation being made into the _meme to end all memes_ makes the crushing anxiety he experienced in his first Grand Prix final seem routine. What the hell is he going to do?  
  
The longer he contemplates the various disastrous outcomes, the more the tightness in his stomach spreads to his chest. A wave of nausea overwhelms him. He tries to swallow it down, to breathe and ignore the dizziness that threatens to knock him out. Yuuri is not a stranger to anxiety. For as long as he can remember, he's suffered from panic attacks. But he thought he'd made progress. Under no circumstances, can he be sick right before his wedding.  
  
Before things get worse, he lowers himself onto the floor, trying not to think about dirtying his expensive white suit. He rests his head against the wall and closes his eyes. Breathe, he reminds himself, focus on the quality of each breath. Everything is under control. This is supposed to be the happiest day of his life, so why he does his chest feel like someone ran him over with a truck? All he wants is for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.  
  
Is that too much to ask?  
  
Yuuri has no idea how long he sits there, cradling his knees to his chest, fighting the urge to cry. It must be longer than he thought since his best friend comes to check on him. He hears Phichit’s familiar footprints and then feels him put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“Yuuri, what’s wrong? Are you ill? We’ve all been looking for you?”  
  
Slowly, Yuuri opens his eyes, thankful that the nausea seems to have passed. He cringes as he stares into worried eyes. Frowning, Phichit places the back of his hand against his forehead.  
  
“You don’t feel warm. Do you feel sick to your stomach? Did you have a panic attack? Do I need to call Viktor?”  
  
“No!” Yuuri covers his mouth with his hand. “I’m fine. You don’t have to bother Viktor.”  
  
Phichit gives him a pointed look. “Uh-huh. You might want to try that on someone that doesn’t know you, for the last...I don't know ten years!” He crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking far older and more stylish than usual in his best man’s suit. “You’re a terrible liar. Just…talk to me. You look like shit.”  
  
“Gee, thanks," Yuuri says, "that's exactly the kind of thing a guy wants to hear on his wedding day.” He sighs, once again dropping his head into his hands. He must look a fright, but Phichit is right. He’s never been able to hide anything from him, one of the many reasons why they're best friends.  
  
“I’m scared.” He hides behind his fingers, unable to face his friend. “What if….what if I’m making a mistake?”  
  
He’s never voiced this sentiment aloud even if it’s not the first time it almost brought him to tears. For a moment, the weight of the statement hangs between them.  
  
“You're having second thoughts about marrying Viktor ?” Phichit blinks incredulously. Yuuri appears to have shocked his usually unflappable best friend. “I thought it was just the large crowds of people outside worrying you.”  
  
“No! I mean…yes.” Yuuri bites down on his bottom lip. “Maybe? It’s just…what if he…I mean…we regret it? Isn’t it kind of sudden? We haven’t known each other all that long.”  
  
Yuuri flushes. He continues to ramble, no longer able to control his tongue. It’s as if all the fears he’s been too afraid to voice come spilling out all at once. “And what do we even have in common outside of skating? What if we get bored? Why would he…”  
  
Phichit listens to his ramble without interrupting. He still looks stunned by his confession. Once it's obvious that Yuuri's finished, he shakes his head sadly.  
  
“Oh, Yuuri.” Phichit throws his arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. “How can you still be so clueless? Even after all these years.”  
  
“Erm…”  
  
“Viktor is crazy about you. How can you still doubt his love after everything he’s done?”  
  
“It’s not that—”  
  
“Then what? That you’ll regret it? That you have nothing in common.” Phitchit rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Yuuri, you’ve been in love with Viktor Nikiforov since I met you. Obsessed!” He smiles fondly. “When I first met you, all you did was talk about Viktor.”  
  
Phichit releases Yuuri from their embrace. He clears his throat and raises his chin. Yuuri cringes since he knows what’s coming next. This is Phichit’s pose for when he wants to mock him.  
  
“Oh, Phichit, what do you think Viktor’s doing? Do you think Viktor likes math? I bet Viktor’s coaches don’t make him clean up the rink. Do you think Viktor's poodle and Vicchan would get along?”  
  
“Come on, I wasn’t that bad.” Yuuri gulps. “Was I?”  
  
Phichit chuckles. “You were worse actually. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you used to pretend to kiss your posters goodnight when you thought I was asleep. Or that notebook I found in the back of your closet that had Yuuri hearts Viktor and Yuuri Nikiforov scrolled all over the cover.”  
  
Yuuri groans, his face as red as a lobster. “I take it back.” Yuuri whimpers. “You should go get Viktor. Tell him that he’s going to have to cancel the wedding since his fiance died of shame. I hope he kept the receipts.”  
  
Phitchit laughs again. “But Yuuri…don’t you see?” His voice is high-pitched and fond. “How could you possibly doubt wanting to spend the rest of your life with Viktor? In all the time I’ve known you, you’ve never wanted anyone else. You’ve never even looked at anyone else. All you've ever seen is Viktor.”  
  
Yuuri nods. In theory, Phichit is right. His entire life has always been about Viktor Nikiforov. First, Yuuri looked up to him, then he was determined to impress him. Now, he’s obsessed with keeping him, making sure he’s worthy of his love.  
  
So why is he worried? Who wouldn’t want to spend the rest of their life married to Viktor?  
  
Yuuri knows he’s been silly, that it’s probably just nerves. Yet, he can’t ignore the intense dread that gnaws at his heart. The last time he had one of these premonitions was right before his first Grand Prix Final when he received the phone call that Vicchan passed.  
  
“Phichit, I know you’re right. But...”  
  
“But what?”  Yuuri stares at his best friend.  "You can’t possibly tell me that you think you can do better than Viktor Nikiforov? That there’s someone else.” Phichit widens his eyes. “Unless…oh my god, Yuuri, is there someone else? Why didn’t you tell me?”  
  
Yuuri shakes his head rapidly. “Of course not!” He gives a resigned sigh. “You’re right, Phichit, I’m just being stupid. How could I possibly ever love anyone besides Viktor?”  
  
Phichit breaks into a wide smile. He claps Yuuri on the back, digging his fingers into his shoulder. “Of course, I am. You need to listen to me more often. I’m brilliant." He pauses. "You almost worried me there for a second.”  
  
“I know.” Yuuri forces a smile. “Thanks, you know, for always being there for me.”  
  
Phichit waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, stop it.” A slight blush creeps up his face. “I know you’d do the same for me.”  
  
A loud knock disrupts them, the door creaking half open. Yuuri turns around. Chris stands in the doorway, looking as handsome as ever in his own best man’s suit. “It’s time!” He can barely contain the excitement in his voice. “Are you ready, mon cher?”  
  
Both Phichit and Chris stare at him, waiting for his response. Yuuri's stomach jerks, the uncomfortable acid building with every breath. He closes his eyes. This is what he wants. It’s what he’s always wanted.  
  
After taking a deep breath, he opens his eyes. “I’m ready.”

  
**  
****~*~  
**

  
  
Yuuri leans against the wall, nursing his fourth glass of champagne. He watches various couples glide across the dance floor, enjoying the wedding reception. He's always been happier as a spectator than a joiner. He much rather relax than stutter his way through more awkward congratulations from strangers.  
  
The wedding had been a success, for the most part. There was a slight incident where Georgi broke down in tears, alarming the guests. When Anya entered late with her newest lover, Georgi stood in front of everyone, declaring his undying love for her and unwavering mission to win her back. Really, the declaration was quite sweet and tame for Georgi’s standards. His poetry has really improved. Too bad his timing coincided with Yuuri and Viktor walking down the aisle.  
  
No harm was done though, only to Georgi’s pride, so Yuuri won't hold it against him. Of course, Viktor found the whole thing hilarious. He was quite miffed that he hadn’t come up with the idea to write Yuuri a poem and do a dramatic reading in front of their guests first. His husband is definitely one of a kind.  
  
Shaking his head, Yuuri spots Viktor dancing with Yuri. He flashes them a fond grin. Viktor waves back. Somehow, Yuri must’ve convinced Viktor to let him lead. They look kind of ridiculous as Yuri tries to guide Viktor across the dance floor. Even with Yuri’s growth spurt, Viktor is still a few inches taller with a much larger frame.  
  
As Yuri trips over Viktor’s feet several times, both of them laugh hysterically. Apparently, Yuri’s not used to leading. How strange to see two of the most graceful skaters Yuuri has ever seen move so awkwardly. At least it looks like they’re having fun.  
  
Yuri beams as Viktor twirls him around, his long hair swaying behind him. He really does look handsome and grown up in his fitted navy suit, his hair tied half back with French braids. Being Yuri, he tries to show off. He spins a bit too quickly and collapses into Viktor’s arms, huddling over in a fit of laughter. Yuri wears a radiant smile, bright enough to light up the entire room. It's a shame he smiles so rarely, especially if Viktor is around.  
  
For too long things were tense between them. Viktor claimed that nothing was wrong, that Yuri just liked to push his buttons. But Yuuri is used to Yuri’s moods. Years of sharing the ice together has made him fluent in angry, Russian teenager. He knows when Yuri acts out for attention and when he’s actually upset about something.  
  
He’s thrilled to see Viktor and Yuri getting along again. Yuri is one of only a handful of skaters that Yuuri considers a friend. Since Viktor and him are moving permanently to Japan, he’ll miss Yuri and his insults if he never comes to visit. Hopefully, he can bribe him with some of his mother’s Katsudon.  
  
Lost in thought, Yuuri reaches for another glass of champagne from the nearby table. He’s extremely thankful to Phichit for talking sense into him. He worried for nothing. Everything turned out okay. He has an endless supply of champagne and the man of his dreams. What else could he possibly want?  
  
After Viktor and Yuri tire of dancing, Yuuri turns his attention to Phichit and Chris, their two best men. Without their help, the wedding never would have happened. He watches Chris lead Phichit through a sensual dance; their movements much more fluid and elegant than Viktor and Yuri. They look good together. Pretty, Yuuri thinks, but since Chris has a boyfriend and Phichit used to harbor a massive crush on him, Yuuri doesn’t think sharing a sensual dance will do him any favors. At least Phichit will always have this dance.  
  
Transfixed by their dancing, mainly Chris’s should be illegal hip thrusts, Yuuri doesn’t look up when someone taps him on the shoulder. “No thank you,” he says politely. “Maybe we can dance later.”  
  
A familiar groan forces him to pay attention. He turns around, finding himself face to face with Yuri.  
  
“Well, it’s a good thing I wasn’t asking you to dance.” Yuri shoots him his patented death glare. “God, not everyone is in love with you, pig.”  
  
He stomps his feet, looking ridiculous, pouting like an overgrown child in his expensive suit. Yuuri can almost feel the anger radiating off him as he clutches two champagne flutes at his side.  
  
Yuuri fights back a smile. He shouldn’t be amused by Yuri’s anger, but he can’t help it. Yuri looks much too adorable when mad, his pale cheeks flushed with rage. The champagne has made him brave, so Yuuri attempts to see what kind of other reactions he can provoke.  
  
He steps closer and studies him carefully.  
  
“What?” Yuri continues to glare. “Did I spill something on my shirt?”  
  
“No.” Yuuri flashes an innocent grin. “But..maybe not everyone is in love with me, but they probably are with you.”  
  
“The fuck you talking about?”  
  
“That suit! Who knew you cleaned up so nicely, Yurio?” Still smiling, Yuuri shakes his head. “You look so handsome with your hair pulled back out of your face too. You’re probably breaking hearts all over the place.”  
  
“Shut up,” Yuri grumbles. “Don’t tease me.”  
  
“I’m not.” Yuuri chuckles. “I’m serious, Yuri. You look very nice. Blue is definitely your color.”  
  
Yuri lowers his head and stares at the floor. “Spasibo.” He mutters so softly under his breath that Yuuri almost misses it.  
  
For someone who pretends to be tough, Yuri doesn’t know how to take a compliment, especially if it has nothing to do with skating. How had he not realized this before?  
  
“You’re welcome.” Yuuri smiles again. “I’m sorry, Yuri, I didn’t mean to ignore you. What did you want to talk to me about?”  
  
Yuri shrugs. “Nothing important.”  
  
“Uh-huh. Well, I’m really glad you’re here. It means a lot to me that you came. And Viktor too. You’re like family to us, you know that right?”  
  
“Whatever, don’t get gross on me, Katsudon. I already got enough of that from Viktor.”  
  
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Yuuri fights back another smile. “You guys looked great out there. I saw you dancing.”  
  
“Liar.” Yuri brings one of the champagne flutes to his mouth, taking a small sip. “We sucked out there.”  
  
“I don’t think so.” Yuri responds with a snort, but Yuuri chooses to ignore it. Instead, he points to the champagne glasses. “Are both of those for you?”   
  
“Here.” Yuri shoves one of the glasses into his hand. “So are we going to toast or what?”  
  
“Of course!” Yuuri can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. He wondered if that had been Yuri’s plan. Apparently, he sought out Yuuri to toast with him out of his own free will. Yuuri is touched. He knew that Yuri didn’t hate him, no matter how much he denies it.  
  
“To you and the old man.” Yuri raises his glass. “And this is a Russian toast. You have to chug the whole thing in one go." His eyes gleam with determination.  "Loser gets the next round.”  
  
Yuuri arches an eyebrow. He’s been with Viktor for awhile now and he’s never heard of any Russian toast with those rules. For Yuri’s sake, he decides to play along. He raises his glass too. “To me and Viktor. May we make each other happy.” He beams at Yuri. “And to old friends too. I hope they realize how much they’re still wanted even if they live far away.”  
  
A patch of pink spreads up Yuri’s cheeks, causing Yuuri to feel triumphant. They clink their glasses together and begin the contest. Chugging champagne is a bad idea. Yuuri tilts his head back in hopes of keeping the tickle of the bubbles to a minimum. He’s lucky he’s already several drinks in if not this would have gone a lot worse.  
  
“Done!”   
  
He finishes his drink with only minor sputtering, but Yuri is not as lucky. He’s not even halfway through his glass, before he begins choking. Champagne spits out from both his mouth and nose. This time, Yuuri can't contain his laughter.  
  
“Ugh, that’s horrible.” Yuri sticks his tongue out, making nauseated faces.  
  
“Don’t you dare say that to Chris. He had it imported from some private vineyard in France.”  
  
“Like that makes it better.”  
  
Yuuri doesn’t know much about wine, but he secretly thinks the champagne sucks too. “So, I won.” He smiles brightly. “You have to do what I say!”  
  
Yuri scoffs. “Yeah right, those weren’t the rules." He scrunches his nose. "Loser gets the next round of drinks. That was the deal.”  
  
“But I don’t want another drink!” Yuuri doesn’t mean to sound so petulant, but that last glass of champagne hit him hard. His entire head is fuzzy and his lips have gone numb. With his free hand, he reaches out and grabs Yuri’s arm. “Dance with me!”  
  
“No way.” Yuri narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t remove Yuuri’s hand from his arm. “I thought you weren’t dancing with anyone that wasn’t your husband.”  
  
“I already danced with Viktor. ” Yuuri flutters his eyelashes and pouts his lower lip. “Please.”  
  
He knows he’s laying it on a bit thick, but all of a sudden he really wants to dance with Yuri. Alcohol tends to give Yuuri tunnel vision. No is not an acceptable answer.  
  
He tugs on Yuri’s arm and joins their hands together. He's surprised at how easily Yuri’s smaller hand fits entwined with his. Viktor’s hands always engulf his.  
  
“I want to dance with you, Yuri. Come on, it’s my wedding day! Can't you do this for me...just this once?”  
  
Yuri gives a resigned sigh. “Fine. One dance. And I lead.”  
  
Yuuri chortles much too loudly. The nearby guests are beginning to stare. “No way. You suck at leading. I saw you.”  
  
Yuri opens his mouth to protest but then closes it. “Fine.”  
  
Before changes his mind, Yuuri drags him toward the dance floor, never releasing his hand. He’s not exactly sure what happened to their champagne glasses, but they lose them somewhere along the way.  
  
“This is perfect!” Yuuri declares once they find an open spot. “We need a slow song, so I can teach you to dance properly.”  
  
“Ugh. This old people music sucks.” Yuri sticks a finger in his mouth, pretending to retch. “Couldn’t you afford a better band? Or a DJ. You should have asked Beka. His mixes rock.”  
  
Yuuri shrugs. “Don’t know. Viktor picked it out. Said it’s…erm…” He scrunches his nose and forehead, trying to find the right word. Yuuri becomes part aphasic when he drinks too much. “Romantic! That’s it.”  
  
He hears Yuri curse under his breath but can’t make out what he says. “So are we doing this or what?”  
  
“Of course!” He pulls Yuri closer to him. “Come here. You’re way too far away. This is dancing, Yurio!”  
  
He presses Yuri’s body up against his, placing his hand on Yuri's waist. He drapes Yuri's hand on his shoulder and takes his other hand in his own.  “Put your hand around my neck if you want. I won't bite."  Yuri snickers but follows his instructions. "Just follow my movements. We’ll take it slow.”  
  
As he stares into Yuri’s panicked eyes, Yuuri gulps. He never realized that they’re almost the same height now. Or just how green Yuri's eyes really are. They’re pretty, he thinks. Why hadn’t he noticed before?  
  
“You’re staring again.”  
  
“Sorry!” Yuuri shakes his head out. “I think the champagne is getting to me. Just do what I do.” He begins moving slowly, leading Yuri around the dance floor in the world’s slowest waltz, his body pressed up against his.  
  
“Yeah, that’s good. Do you want to try it a bit faster?” he asks after Yuri appears to have mastered the timing.  
  
When Yuri shakes his head, he feels his breath hitch. “Me neither.”  
  
Yuuri doesn’t understand exactly what’s happening. Why dancing so close to Yuri is making his pulse race? He’s never felt his heart beat this rapidly before with anyone but Viktor. Why is this happening now? And of all places at his wedding?  
  
Does this mean that he…?  
  
Yuuri closes his eyes. Of course not! He forces the ridiculous notion from his mind. It’s probably the champagne. Yuuri drank more than he should have and champagne has always had a weird effect on him. That's all.  
  
This is Yuri, who hates him. He’s probably a little drunk too, which explains why he’s clutching onto Yuuri as if his life depended on it.  
  
After one more dance, he’ll go look for Viktor.  
  
And everything will go back to normal.  


  
**~*~**

  
  
  
At twenty seven, Yuuri feels old, really old.  
  
Now that Viktor's retired Yuuri is one of the oldest figure skaters left. He’s never been afraid of getting older. Gray hair and wrinkles don't worry him, not like Viktor who spends a fortune on hair thinning and anti-aging products.  
  
But Yuuri hadn't considered the physical toll that being a skater, pounding his body season after season, would leave on him. There's a stiffness in his muscles now. Sometimes, his back locks up in the morning when he tries to get out of bed, which never used to happen in his early twenties.  
  
Viktor finds the whole thing hilarious since he’s been dealing with the effects of wear and tear on a skater’s body for much longer. He’s taken to teasing Yuuri when he has trouble getting up rather than helping him, much the way that Yuuri used to tease him about being married to an old man. “If you can’t get off the floor by yourself, how do you think you’ll manage on the ice?”   
  
Marriage is different than he expected. They've only been married for two years, but it feels longer. Things have been weird since Viktor retired. Really, since he beat Yuuri for Gold at the Olympics with the smallest of margins. Yuuri doesn’t want to hold it against him. He knows how amazing Viktor’s skating is and how hard he worked to get back on top. Still, Yuuri wonders if Viktor's score for his free skate would be as high if anyone else had performed the routine, if it still would have beaten Yuuri for Gold.  
  
But dwelling on what ifs will only set him on a path of destruction.  He can't do that. In only two years, there's already a palpable distance between them. Yuuri can’t let their professional lives affect their relationship. It’s a promise they both made when Viktor agreed to return to the ice. He wants to keep it.  
  
If only, Viktor didn’t make things so hard.

  
  
**~*~** **  
******

  
  
When Yuuri sees a familiar head of blond hair walk through the door, he almost tackles him.   
  
“Yuri, I’m so glad you could make it!” Yuuri grins as he wraps Yuri in a tight hug. “I’m sorry that Viktor isn’t here yet. But he said to start without him.”  
  
“Whatever,” Yuri grumbles as he tries to wriggle out of Yuuri’s grasp. “Katsudon, I can’t breathe.”  
  
Yuuri releases him and offers a bashful look. “Sorry. I just can’t believe you’re here! How long are you here for? Where do you want to go first? How was the trip over?”  
  
Rolling his eyes, Yuri raises his head looking heavenward. “What did I get myself into?” He pulls the chair out and sits in the small private table Yuuri reserved at Yuri’s favorite restaurant in Japan.  
  
Yuuri stares, practically vibrating in his seat with excitement. It’s been so long since he saw Yuri outside of the rink.  
  
“I’m here for one week.” He drums his fingers against the table. “I want to eat a shit ton of food. And your parents and Yuuko say hello. Happy now?”  
  
Yuuri nods. “Very! What do you want to get?”  
  
When Yuri said he was hungry, he wasn’t kidding. Yuuri thinks he ordered one of every dish on the menu, along with directions to the wait staff to keep the sake flowing.  
  
After more fish than Yuuri’s eaten in ages and way too much sake, Yuuri can barely make out the letters on his phone.  
  
“What does that say?” He holds his phone out to Yuri. “I think I need stronger glasses.”  
  
Yuri scoffs. “Well you are ancient now. Let me see.” He scrolls through Yuuri’s thread of texts quickly and frowns. “What a shocker. Viktor can’t make it. He’s sorry and sends his love.”  
  
“Oh. Is that all?”  
  
Yuuri tries not to be too disappointed. He should be used to this. Ever since Viktor retired, he’s been working on creating his brand or so his agent says. With Viktor’s record breaking performance at the Olympics, he’s even more of a household name. His agent wants to capitalize on his popularity by giving Viktor his own brand of ice skates and athletic wear. Even though Viktor assured Yuuri his agent would take care of everything, Viktor has been forced to take frequent business trips all over the world in order to promote his new line. Yuuri has tried to be supportive, but he misses his husband. Now, that he no longer coaches him, he feels like he needs to make an appointment if he ever wants to see him.  
  
“Don’t look so bummed Katsudon!” He pours Yuuri another sake. “Screw Viktor. We don’t need him to have a good time.”  
  
“Right.” Yuuri takes the sake and swirls it around. He raises the small glass to his lips, swallowing it down in one gulp. He knows that's not the proper way to drink sake, but it's one of those nights. He needs it.    
  
“I just feel bad. That’s all. For you.”  
  
Yuri gives him a pointed look. “The fuck you on about?”  
  
“Viktor.” Yuuri cringes at how pathetic he sounds. “You came all this way. I know he would have loved to see you. He misses you too.”  
  
Yuri refills both their glasses again. “Well, I’m not surprised. It’s Viktor. He always leaves. Never keeps his promises.” He shrugs. “I’m used to it by now.”  
  
“Don’t tell me your still upset about that? That was years ago, Yuri. You need to get past it. Viktor didn’t mean to make it seem like he was choosing me over you.”  
  
“You think I’m talking about me? I’m talking about you, you idiot!" Yuri sniffs. "He’s been out a lot. Withdrawn? You think you’re the first person Viktor gets obsessed with?” Yuri shakes his head sadly. “Viktor only cares about himself. He only sticks around if it benefits him in some way. Once he gets bored, he leaves. It’s what he did to the others.”  
  
“What others?” Yuuri's heart lurches to the back of his throat. Perhaps it’s the sake talking, but why does all of this sound familiar? Could Yuri be right? Is Viktor getting tired of him?  
  
“Don’t tell me he hasn’t told you?” Yuri rolls his eyes. “Viktor wasn’t a virgin before you, Katsudon. He’s had plenty of relationships.”  
  
“Of course he has!” Yuuri snaps. “Viktor tells me everything. He’s my husband. I know he had lovers before me, but none of them were serious.”  
  
Yuri tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He leans over the table closer to Yuuri. “Is that we he told you?” His pupils are wide and full of fire. “Are you really that gullible? Maybe they weren’t serious to him, but I doubt his lovers felt the same.”  
  
“I don’t believe you!” All of a sudden Yuuri feels like he can't breathe, like someone is sucking all the oxygen out of the room. “You’re just trying to hurt me.”  
  
“Why would I do that?” Yuri leans closer to him. He reaches forward and places his hand on top of Yuuri’s. When Yuuri doesn’t swat him away, he starts rubbing his thumb gently over the back of his hand, caressing it. “Do you really think that little of me?” His voice is softer and more pained than Yuuri’s ever heard it. “That I would come all this way to hurt you? Don’t you know how I feel about you?”  
  
Yuri leans in further, so close that Yuuri can make out the pale freckles on his nose, smell the alcohol on his breath. “You’re not the first and you won’t be the last. Viktor doesn’t deserve you.”  
  
Before Yuuri can respond, Yuri presses his lips against his. The kiss is soft, tentative at best, but Yuuri's lips begin to tingle. Every nerve in his body feels like it's been awoken. He knows this is wrong, but he can’t pull his lips away. Instead, he opens his mouth and allows Yuri to deepen the kiss.  
  
Yuri may have initiated the kiss, but Yuuri has been thinking about this for ages. Years even. Perhaps as early as his wedding reception.  
  
When they break apart, he avoids looking Yuri in the eye. He can’t bear to see his own want and desire reflected back, making it that much harder to say no.  
  
“Yuri,” he breathes, “I can’t. Viktor—”  
  
“Viktor is a shit head!” Yuri raises his voice and throws his hands in the air. “What’s it going to take to get it through your head?” He narrows his eyes and reaches for his own phone. “You want proof. Here’s your proof.” He flips furiously through his phone and then hands it to Yuuri. “Stupid me, I wanted to spare you the pain.”  
  
As he grabs the phone, Yuuri's hands shake. He can’t bear to look. This picture could change his entire life, destroy his relationship with Viktor. He trusts his husband and wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, but Yuri is right. He has no reason to lie to him.  
  
One way or another, he needs to know. He looks down at the phone and finds Leo’s Instagram feed. Confused, he looks to Yuri, who motions for him to scroll through. His last few posts are all pictures with Viktor. #TFW Your idol helps you choreograph your next SP and actually likes your choreography. #SoBlessed #Pinchme #Watchyourback.  
  
Yuuri lets out a relieved sigh. This is nothing, only a few pictures of Viktor and Leo skating together. They look innocent enough. Viktor had mentioned that he ran into Leo on his last trip to the U.S. Why is Yuri making such a big deal?  
  
“I don’t get it. He’s helping him out. Viktor told me.”  
  
“Leo’s a fanboy. Viktor’s his idol." Yuri stares at him likes he's the stupidest person alive. He starts motioning with his hands. "It’s his dream to skate with Viktor!”  
  
Yuuri shrugs. “So what?”  
  
“Are you really that thick? Doesn’t that sound familiar? Viktor loves attention. I doubt he’s only helping Leo with his choreography.” Yuri shakes his head. “If you’re really that stupid, then you deserve each other.”  
  
“This isn’t proof. I have to give him a chance to explain. I can’t—”  
  
“Nevermind.” Yuri pushes his chair back and throws a wad of bills on the table. “I’m out of here. We’re done. Don’t bother texting me.”  
  
Yuuri doesn’t know why, but he grabs Yuri’s arm. In retrospect, this is probably the moment where everything falls apart, where if he had stayed strong and made a different choice none of this would have happened. But he’s much too tired and much too drunk to question his judgment. Yuuri doesn’t know whether Viktor is cheating on him or not. What he does know, is that he wants Yuri, that he’s secretly wanted him for ages. No matter what, he can’t let him walk away. Regardless of the consequences.  
  
“I’m sorry, okay.” Yuuri knows he sounds desperate. “Please stay. I don’t know what this is.” He points between them. “If it’s real or just passing, but I want to find out.”  
  
Yuri beams, a real smile that causes Yuuri's heart to flipflop. He threads his fingers through Yuuri’s and gives his hand a tight squeeze. “Let’s get out of here.”  
  



	4. Broken-(present)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't clear, this scene takes places right after chapter two.

“You’re late,” Yuri mutters.   
  
Yuuri tries to hide his smile as he enters Minako's ballet studio. All the guilt from leaving Viktor behind and ignoring their marital problems vanishes as he sees Yuri, his stomach fluttering like a teenager. Yuri’s leaning against the barre, practicing an arabesque, his long blond hair tied back into a messy bun. Yuuri bites his lip to stop himself from commenting on how edible he looks. Yuuri loves when Yuri pulls his hair out of his face. He has such beautiful eyes and high cheekbones. Not that Yuuri would ever tell him. He doesn’t want to get punched.   
  
After staring for a bit longer, Yuuri coughs. “And—that’s a shitty arabesque.”   
  
“The fuck you talking about?” Scowling, Yuri lowers his legs. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, glaring.   
  
Yuuri smirks, settling into his familiar routine with Yuri. At twenty, Yuri has matured, growing into his body and further polishing his skills as a skater. His maturity level, however, has remained pretty much the same as that angry fifteen-year-old, who showed up at his parents’ onsen, uninvited and wearing way too much animal print.   
  
“Your turn out is shitty. And that back leg flaps behind you.” Yuuri snorts. “Even the King crab we had for dinner last night has better extension than you.” He steps closer to Yuri, smiling at his own joke. “Do it again.” He swallows and lowers his voice a bit. Once again, the back of his throat tightens with emotion, but this time, it’s desire.   
  
Yuri rolls his eyes but listens. He steps into another fourth arabesque, stretching his arms into the correct position, one arm in front of him and one behind; his left leg pushes back, pointed furiously toward the ceiling.   
  
“Grab onto the bar.” Yuuri closes the remaining distance between them and places a hand on Yuri’s stomach. “Pull up from here.” He presses his hand into Yuri’s strong abdominals, teasing them a bit with fingers. “Always pull from the core.”   
  
“Tell me something I don’t know.”    
  
“Well if you know it, then why aren’t you doing it?”   
  
Yuuri laughs. It’s funny how Yuri’s snark used to bother him. When he first met him, he wished the “Russian Punk” had a bit less attitude and a lot more restraint. He even brainstormed with Viktor on how to get Yuri to chill out a bit. Now, he wouldn’t want Yuri to be any other way.   
  
Still holding the pose, Yuri turns his head toward Yuuri. “Any other words of wisdom?” He looks a bit uncomfortable.   
  
“Like I said, your turn out is shitty. I’m surprised Lilia lets you get away with this.” Yuuri places his hands on Yuri’s hips, digging his fingers into the tight muscle of his thigh. He adjusts Yuri’s hips and helps him push his turnout further. “Turn out from your hips not your knees.” Yuuri smiles as he recalls one of Minako’s very first ballet lessons from when he was a child.   
  
“Doesn’t that feel better?” Yuuri asks, watching him closely.   
  
“Whatever. Feels like the same shit to me.”   
  
“You should watch that mouth.” Yuuri clicks his tongue. “Minako doesn’t allow that type of language in her studio. She’ll make you clean the entire thing.” He arches an eyebrow. “With a toothbrush.”   
  
Yuri rolls his eyes again. “Yeah, well who’s going to stop me?”   
  
“I am.”   
  
Before he can react, Yuuri grabs onto Yuri’s raised leg. He pushes it closer to the ceiling. In order to keep his balance, Yuri bends over slightly and Yuuri rests his long leg against his shoulder, stretching it further.   
  
“Not quite as flexible as you used to be, huh? Old age getting to you already?”   
  
“Like you should talk, old man!” Yuri yanks his leg out of his grasp and then releases the position. “You’re so old now that you can’t even…”  Yuri bites down on his tongue.   
  
“I’m so old that I can’t even what?”   
  
“Forget it.”   
  
“No, tell me.” Yuuri sighs. “That I can’t even skate? Be faithful to my husband?”   
  
Yuuri is used to everyone treating him as if he were made of glass. "Skaters’ hearts are as fragile as glass," Viktor had once told him. Perhaps he’s right, but that doesn’t mean all his loved ones need to treat him like he’s one step away from a mental breakdown. Yuri has never cared about his injury. He still treats Yuuri as horribly as ever.   
  
Still, Yuri’s eyes widen. He looks absolutely horrified. “That’s not what I meant. You know I don’t—”   
  
Yuuri shrugs, raising one shoulder. “You’re not wrong, you know. I barely landed a triple axel today.” He sighs again. “It was pretty pathetic actually.”   
  
Yuuri doesn’t know why he’s sharing this with Yuri. They never talk about his accident, about his dwindling career. He hasn’t told anyone that he’s been working on his jumps again, running through his old programs, trying to see exactly how out of shape he is, how far he is from competition form.   
  
He stares at Yuri expectantly and waits. He doesn’t know what he expects Yuri to say, but he knows it’ll at least be honest. If Yuuri spends his life terrified of looking stupid and saying the wrong thing, then Yuri spends his life not giving a shit and saying the first thing that comes to mind.   
  
Yuuri needs that frankness. He holds his breath and Yuri rolls his eyes. He shoves Yuuri in the shoulder. “Yeah, well, it’s probably for the best anyway, old man. You’d have no chance in hell at beating me this year.”   
  
He grins—that snarky yet devastatingly charming smile that Yuuri’s starting to believe he can't live without.   
  
“And what’s this about you working with Minami during the off season?” Yuri narrows his eyes, but his glower lacks its usual intensity; instead he looks almost hurt. “You’re not supposed to be training my competition behind my back. Especially…since you already refused to work with me.”   
  
“Yurio, I—” He lowers his eyes. He can’t stand to see the accusation in Yuri’s eyes. “You know I can’t—”   
  
“Nevermind. I don’t want to talk about that now.”   
  
Yuri grabs him by the collar of his sweatshirt, bringing him closer. Before Yuuri can protest, he smashes their lips together. Yuuri returns the kiss eagerly. The breath is knocked out of his lungs as Yuri starts to ravish him, tangling one hand in his hair and sneaking the other hand down the front of his sweatshirt, teasing at his nipples. He can feel the desperation vibrating off Yuri, the intense hunger to be close.   
  
Yuuri shudders. It’s been too long since their last kiss. He has no idea why they wasted time arguing when they could’ve been kissing instead. Kissing Yuri makes his entire head feel fuzzy. The crushing numbness that weighs him down on a daily basis begins to dissipate. Yuuri’s breathless; his entire body aches; his cock hardens, and all he wants to do is pull Yuri closer, to get lost in the taste of him, no matter how wrong, to kiss him forever.   
  
“Yuri,” he breathes, once they break apart.   
  
“Save it,” Yuri says through gritted teeth. “This isn’t over by the way.” He tugs at the stray strands that came loose from his bun, covering his face. “But for now. Less clothes…right the fuck now.”   
  
Yuuri grins. He’s spent the entire morning being fussed over by Viktor and the afternoon struggling through rehab. After his disastrous skate, his evening had been no better. Somehow, spending only a few moments in Yuri’s presence with a few stolen kisses allows him to feel like he can breathe again, like all the darkness and pain in his chest that's been accumulating since his accident won't swallow him whole.   
  
“What did you have in mind?”   
  
Yuuri expects Yuri to be prepared. It’s their unwritten code. Whoever sets up the meeting prepares for their extracurricular activities.   
  
“I found some mats in the backroom.” Yuri points to a few rolled up mats stacked in the corner.   
  
Yuuri frowns, recognizing the old, worn mats, many of them torn. “Those are from Yuuko’s gymnastics class. I doubt they ever clean them.”   
  
“Whatever, Katsudon, they seem clean enough to me. You’re the one that doesn’t want to fuck in my room.”   
  
Yuri stomps over to the mats. He pulls them open on the floor, arranging them in front of the mirrored wall. After kicking the mats a few times, he appears satisfied and reaches for his bag. He rustles through the black animal print backpack, looking determined. Eventually, he pulls out a leopard print throw blanket and some condoms. He arranges the blanket on top of the mats.   
  
“Happy now?” Yuri looks much too pleased with himself.   
  
Yuuri is oddly touched. He gave that blanket to Yuri for his eighteenth birthday. He surprised he’s kept it. Yuuri is never certain about anything he gifts Yuri. He’s thrilled that he seems to like it.   
  
“Earth to Katsudon!” Yuri waves his fingers in front of his face. “So are you actually going to fuck me or just stare with a constipated look on your face all night?”   
  
Yuuri bites his tongue. Then he licks his lips. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you.”   
  
He grabs Yuri and shoves him onto the mat, straddling Yuri, who lands on his back. He rubs their crotches together, pleased to see that Yuri is already hard. He leans over and whispers in his ear. “I’m going to fuck you so hard that you feel me for days. That you can’t land a jump without thinking about how my cock split you apart.”   
  
Yuri gulps; his eyes darken and Yuuri feels his cock twitch against his. “Get on with it then. We don’t have all night.”   
  
Quickly, Yuuri untangles himself from Yuri. He helps him stand and then shed his shirt and leggings. He attempts to keep Yuri from tripping over his tangled clothes, but Yuri is a bit too excited and lands on his ass, releasing a long string of expletives. Once he finishes cursing, he kicks off his ballet shoes and stands, facing Yuuri with a dangerous expression.   
  
Yuuri sucks on his bottom lip. He doesn’t want to snicker and risk Yuri’s wrath, even if watching Yuri wipe out on his ass is the funniest thing he’s seen in ages. The oversensitive idiot might do something stupid like walk away.    
  
“Got something say?”   
  
Yuri is testing him, so he remains quiet and shakes his head. He stares at Yuuri intently. When Yuri begins tugging at his shirt and then shorts, Yuuri exhales. He steals a few sloppy kisses in the process, picking up where they left off as if nothing had happened. It looks like Yuuri passed the test.   
  
Once Yuuri is shirtless, Yuri latches onto his neck with his mouth, sucking on it deeply. Yuuri closes his eyes, trying to fight back a moan.   
  
“Stop that.” He swats Yuri away. “You know you can’t leave any marks.”   
  
Yuri scoffs, his response to everything. “I thought you said Viktor won’t fuck you anymore. How’s he going to know?”   
  
“He’ll know!” Yuuri’s voice is too high-pitched, too frantic. “He’s my husband. Of course, he still sees me without a shirt.” He cringes as his cheeks grow warm. “And don’t say his name! You know I don’t like that.”   
  
Yuri grumbles. “Of course, it’s okay to cheat on your precious husband. But I can’t even say Vitya’s name. Don't forget I've known him longer than you.”   
  
“Yurio!”   
  
“What?” Yuri widens his eyes. “I didn’t say his name! Come on, you used to be fun.”   
  
“You know my rules.”   
  
Yuri gives a resigned sigh. “Fine. Yes, I know. What husband? I’ve never met any husband.”   
  
He's incorrigible. There are no other words. Yuri's snark appears to have no limits, so Yuuri shuts him up the best way he knows how, with his lips. He lunges at him, much the same way that Yuri kissed him earlier, knocking the breath out of his lungs, tangling his hands in Yuri’s hair, pulling at the messy bun. For a moment, Yuri is stunned, but then melts into Yuuri’s arms, deepening the kiss. They’re the same height now and Yuuri thinks it’s kind of nice not to have to look up and stand on his tiptoes when kissing.   
  
Every conversation leads to an argument. That’s always been their way, from their very first meeting. Yuuri isn’t certain if it’ll ever change. All he knows is that the sheer bliss he feels when kissing Yuri is worth anything.   
  
Without another word, Yuuri guides Yuri onto the mat gingerly. Even at twenty, all skaters have to protect their backs. He kisses him again and then flips Yuri over onto his stomach, ignoring his protest at the loss of contact. Yuri struggles underneath him, trying to elbow him and gain the advantage, desperate to flip him back over. Even if they are the same height, Yuuri is still the stronger of the two, much to Yuri’s dismay.   
  
“Behave.” Yuuri enjoys teasing his lover far too much. If it were up to him, they’d do this all night, see just how much stamina a twenty year old really has. Since he knows their time is short, he stops trying to pin Yuri down. Instead, he presses kisses down his neck and eventually his back and ass too.   
  
Yuri has the cutest little ass, small and perky, but still perfectly tight and more than willing to take Yuuri’s cock like a champ. He stops for a moment to admire it.   
  
“Don’t make me spank you like last time.” Yuuri runs his right palm over Yuri’s cheeks. He kneads the soft skin until Yuri groans, pushing his cheeks further into his hands. Licking his lips, Yuuri gives a playful swat, leaving a red mark on his left cheek .   
  
“That hurts, you fucker!”   
  
“Don’t test me.” Yuuri smirks, remembering the last time they got together when Viktor was away on business. Yuri’s ass was so raw that he couldn’t sit properly for days.   
  
It’s a shame they can’t repeat that performance without Viktor getting suspicious. After all, Yuri’s supposed to be here to visit the both of them, not to get spanked by Yuuri.   
  
“I swear, old man if you don’t—”   
  
He ignores Yuri’s protest and swats his ass once more. This time he strikes the other cheek. Much harder.   
  
Yuri cries out, a high-pitched yelp, but doesn’t protest. Yuuri loves to watch him squirm and finally give in. He feels his own cock pulse at Yuri’s submission, a heady wave of pleasure. He decides to take pity on his lover since he doesn’t want to work himself up too much before fucking him. Yuuri prides himself on his stamina, but he hasn’t had sex since the last time he saw Yuri more than two months earlier.   
  
Closing his eyes, he takes a deep, calming breath. Once he’s back in control, he parts Yuri’s cheeks. Surprisingly, he’s been waiting patiently for Yuuri to continue. Yuuri decides to reward him. He peppers a few kisses on his ass since he can’t get over just how cute it is.   
  
“You have the best ass,” Yuuri murmurs.   
  
He lowers his head, pushing his tongue into Yuri’s crack, stretching his cheeks further apart with his hands, giving them a tight squeeze. Yuri flinches, and he licks a long stripe up his perineum, savoring the musky taste before dipping his tongue into the pucker, forcing it open with just the tip of his tongue.   
  
Yuri grunts and he takes it as a sign to continue. This time, Yuuri rolls his tongue and pushes it in further, surprised at how easily the tight ring of muscle opens for him, how wet it already is, almost as if it was recently stretched. Did Yuri play with himself before Yuuri arrived? He decides to test his theory. He darts his tongue back and forth, and then in a circular motion, pushing further into his lover’s hole with each motion, slowly opening him up.   
  
“Fuck, Katsudon. Right there.”   
  
Pleased with Yuri’s response, he picks up the pace. He stretches him out further, making sure to massage against his prostate. Yuri squirms in response, pushing his ass further into Yuuri’s face. He curls his calves up, wrapping them around Yuuri's head, holding him in a headlock. With every motion he forces Yuuri's tongue even deeper into his ass. Yuuri doesn’t mind though. He adores eating Yuri’s ass. He loves watching him come undone, how he struggles against his own inhibitions and mutters obscenities into the mat.   
  
“If you don’t fuck me in the next minute, I might die!” Yuri struggles through every word, his voice wrecked. “Unless you want to be responsible for my death…I swear to God…Katsudon, I’m not—”   
  
When he ignores him, Yuri releases his head from his legs. “I’ll haunt you, loser. I’ll—” His voice hitches as Yuuri continues rimming him. “Please.”   
  
Yuuri pauses, finally satisfied with Yuri's response. He lifts his head and wipes the excess saliva from his mouth and chin with the back of his hand. “I don’t know.” Yuuri’s voice is even. “I don’t want to hurt you, Yuri. Maybe I should prepare you some more.”   
  
“I’m ready, you fucker!” Yuri shouts, and then he flips himself over, turning around to face him. “I prepared myself waiting for your lazy ass. Can’t you tell?”   
  
“Is that so?” Yuuri asks innocently. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”   
  
Yuri shoots him a scathing glare, and he pretends that Yuri fingering himself as he waits isn’t the hottest thing he’s ever heard.   
  
“Well, if you’re sure.” Yuuri grabs one of the handful of condoms Yuri tossed on the mat. After giving his cock a few tugs, he quickly slides it on, and then pulls Yuri into a deep kiss, hoping to soothe his fury. Yuri moans into his mouth as he adjusts his position, lining his cock up against Yuri’s entrance. He breaks the kiss and as if on cue, Yuri lifts his long legs, placing them on his shoulders.   
  
“Don’t you dare hold anything back. You got that Katsudon?”   
  
Yuuri agrees. He wasn’t planning to anyway. In the months they’ve been fucking, Yuuri appreciates how Yuri doesn’t take it easy on him, how he doesn’t treat him like an invalid. He expects Yuuri to fuck him hard and deep. The way that Viktor used to.   
  
Closing his eyes, he pushes into Yuri’s ass. He savors the tightness of the hole and then stops halfway, allowing Yuri a moment to adjust himself to the fullness of his cock.   
  
“Are you okay?”   
  
“Are you deaf old man? Don’t hold anything back. I don’t want any of this coddling shit.”   
  
Chuckling, Yuuri shakes his head. “Okay. You asked for it.” Such a way with words, his Yurio.   
  
Before Yuri complains again, he deepens his thrusts, resting more of his weight against his lover's chest. He leans forward, pulling halfway out, then pushes in again, each time picking up the pace. He tightens his grip on Yuri’s hips, angling them toward him to better access his prostate. He knows he’s found the spot when Yuri gasps and then wraps his ankles around his neck.   
  
Yuuri swallows; his throat tightens from Yuri’s ankles, his breath growing ragged. He doesn’t care. He fucks Yuri as raw and hard as he can manage, summoning all his pent up pain and frustration into his thrusts. Yuri throws his head back and mutters, his toes curling against his neck. He's touching himself, furiously pumping his own cock with both hands, pushing himself over the edge. Yuri yells, a long list of Russian expletives, as he comes, squirting all over his stomach.   
  
Yuuri bites down on his tongue, his own orgasm building. He knows he’s close and feels both smug and a sense of relief that he was able to make Yuri come first. After a few more frantic thrusts, he relinquishes control, losing himself in the bliss of his own orgasm. He comes harder than he has in years.   
  
“Yura,” he mumbles, after he recovers and collapses on top of his chest. “That was—”   
  
“I know.” Yuri kisses him. “Now, get off. You’re heavy, pig. And don’t call me, Yura.”   
  
Yuuri fights back a grin. He ignores Yuri’s weak insult, knowing that it’s his version of saying he cares too, the closest thing to a declaration of affection he’ll ever receive.   
  
It’s more than he expected.   
  
Groaning, he untangles himself from Yuri and plops down on the mat next to him. His limbs are heavy from exhaustion, his right ankle throbbing more than it has in weeks.   
  
“Are you alright? Viktor will kill me if I broke you.”   
  
Yuuri scowls, but he ignores Yuri’s dig. “I’m fine,” he lies. “I haven’t been sleeping well. That’s all.”   
  
“Oh. I don’t think it’s that late. You can prob head home and get to bed at a decent hour." He pauses. "I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”   
  
Yuuri grimaces but nods anyway. It’s not a complete lie. He will have trouble sleeping, but not for the reasons Yuri thinks. How does he tell his lover that he never sleeps a wink on nights after they meet up? That he’s much too disgusted with himself and his lack of self-control to climb into bed with his husband, no matter how much he enjoys his time with his lover.   
  
Yuuri craves Yuri. He cares deeply for him and won’t deny it. It’s more than just sex, so of course, he wishes things were different. But Yuuri made a vow, and even if he thinks his marriage is beyond repair, he knows he’ll never be the one to walk away first, to actually leave Viktor. He’s too much of a coward.   
  
“So when can I see you again? Same time tomorrow?”   
  
Yuri’s voice is soft and hopeful, so foreign coming out of his mouth. Yuuri tries to ignore how it pulls on the strings of his heart.   
  
“Tomorrow, bright and early for practice.”   
  
“Don’t play dumb! That’s not what I meant. And you know it.”   
  
“Yuri, this won’t happen again. It can’t.” Yuuri closes his eyes, fighting back tears. “This was the last time.”   
  
“You always say that!” Yuri pushes himself off the floor and heads toward their crumpled clothing. “Every freaking time. You never mean it. You always—”   
  
“I know. But Viktor—”   
  
“Fuck Viktor! What does he have that I don’t? Tell me!”   
  
“Yuri, you know it’s not like that. Don’t compare yourself to Viktor.”   
  
“How can I not…when that’s all that anyone’s ever done my whole fucking life?” Yuri’s fuming now, his chest heaving and pupils blown wide. “Just leave him already. He doesn’t deserve you.”   
  
Yuuri hates himself. More than ever. Things aren’t supposed to be this complicated. It was only supposed to be sex. Nothing else. That was the arrangement. He never meant to develop feelings for Yuri. Never wanted to hurt him in return. Yuri is wrong. He’s the one that doesn’t deserve Viktor’s love. Or Yuri’s.   
  
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri tells him, desperate to make him understand. “You know that I can’t do that. I—”   
  
“Save it, old man. I don’t want to hear it.” Yuri narrows his eyes. “You’ll come crawling back. You always do.”   
  
He’s probably right.   
  
“So same time tomorrow?”   
  
At twenty-eight, Yuuri is tired and weak. He’ll never be able to stay away from Yuri. Not until he destroys all three of their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Even though this story is technically complete, there's still one more scene that takes place after this, an epilogue of sort. Unfortunately, I ran out of time and wasn't able to finish it in time for the RSOI deadline. Hopefully, I'll have it up in the next week. Also, this is a two part story. There will be a sequel/companion fic that tells things from Yurio's pov. Also, my apologies for breaking everyone's hearts.


End file.
